


until this desert brings me back

by littletrenchcoatangel



Series: Prompt Drop 2014 [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Ghost steve, M/M, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 15:23:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2433623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littletrenchcoatangel/pseuds/littletrenchcoatangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s me, Buck,” he whispers, reaching up to grab Bucky’s wrist. “Bucky, it’s me, Steve.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	until this desert brings me back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snuckybarnes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snuckybarnes/gifts).



> prompt fill from tumblr: http://littletrenchcoatangel.tumblr.com/post/99644971690/41-stucky-because-thats-seems-kinda-painful-but-could
> 
> title is from 'the season' by the dodos

It’s been six weeks since he last saw the kid when Bucky gets a knock on his door.

He considers not answering it, like he has for the last month and a half, but a voice in the back of his head tells him he needs to get off his ass and stop being a jerk.

_I’m not the jerk, kid. You’re the jerk._

_Like hell I’m the jerk, jerk._

_Oh yeah? Well, you’re a – a goddamn punk. That’s what you are. You’re a little goddamn punk._

The knocking comes again, a little louder this time. Bucky stares at the silhouette filling the small window in his door, wonders who the hell would be walking the streets at 9 at night on a Tuesday.

“Open up,” someone shouts, the voice vaguely familiar. “I know you’re home.”

_I know you’re in there, Buck, come on. You can’t just avoid me forever._

_I can do whatever the hell I want, kid. Now leave me alone._

_You know I can just walk right through this door, right? I’m only staying out here because you don’t want me in there._

_Did you have to tell me that?_

_Would you rather I just did this?_

_Jesus Christ!_

_What? I told you I could do it._

_I thought that crap only happened in movies._

Bucky gets up, heading towards the door, but something stops him before he gets there. There’s a tightness in his gut, something like guilt, and he has to grab hold of the doorframe to make sure he doesn’t collapse.

_I love you, you know._

_I know. I’m sorry._

_Sorry? What the hell for? …Steve?_

_I gotta go, Buck. I’m sorry._

_Steve. Steve! Steve, what are you talking about? Steve!_

The man at Bucky’s front door knocks against the door with his fist, three times.

“If you don’t open this door,” the man says. “I’m going to have to break it down.”

Do it, Bucky thinks. I dare you.

_Steve, where the hell have you been?_

_I can’t tell you._

_What?_

_I’m sorry, Buck. I just – you have to trust me, okay? Just open the door._

_What the hell are you talking about, Steve? What door? Why the hell won’t you talk to me? Is it because of  –_

_I - I can’t, Bucky. I can’t._

_Ste-_

_Just open the door, Bucky. Please. Just open the door._

_Steve!_

There’s silence outside, and then a single, solitary knock on the door. It sounds more like a thump, to Bucky. Like someone dropping their head against the wood.

He inches closer, curious, until he’s right on the other side of the door. He’s got a vase in his hand, ready to do some serious damage if whoever’s on the other side decides to break down the door.

“-the door,” the man is saying, barely loud enough to hear. “Please, Bucky. Just open the door.”

_Just open the door, Bucky._

The familiarity of the voice clicks, then, and Bucky drops the vase, shattering it.

“Bucky?” the man calls. “Buck, you in there?”

Bucky throws the door open, shocking the man on the other side, and slams his fist into the switch for the porch light. They both get flooded in the slightly yellow glow, and Bucky stomps forward a step and a half to get a closer look. He stumbles a little when he realises it’s not who he thinks it is, but then his anger flares up, and he grabs the guy by the front of his shirt.

“How the hell do you know my name?” he asks. When the man says nothing, he shakes him, pulls him down to his own height. Then, shouting, “How the goddamn hell do you know my name?”

“It’s me, Buck,” the man whispers, reaching up to grab Bucky’s wrist. “Bucky, it’s me, Steve.”

_Hello. My name is Steve. I live in this house. Please leave._

_Holy fucking – how’d you get in my house?_

_Wait, you can see me?_

_Don’t pull that shit with me, kid. Get out of my house._

_That gun’s not gonna do anything for you. Trust me._

_I don’t trust you. Sorry, kid. Now get out of my house._

_You keep saying that, but this isn’t your house._

_The hell it ain’t. I’m not gonna ask again, kid. Leave._

_Look, I don’t know how to tell you this, but – oh my god, did - did you just shoot me?_

Bucky throws the man back a step, then follows him and throws a fist into his face. “Who the hell are you?” he shouts. Across the street, someone else's porch light comes on.

“Bucky, I swear to God, it’s me. I-”

Bucky throws another punch, but the guy deflects it easily. “Steve’s dead, asshole.”

Not to mention about half your height, Bucky thinks.

“No, I – I can prove it. July 19th last year, that’s when you moved in.”

“Any asshole could figure that out.”

“You met me on July 21st.”

Bucky goes to throw another punch, but doesn’t even get his arm raised before the asshole has it held down.

“Would you stop trying to punch me, Bucky? I’m trying to have a conversation with you.”

_Look, could you stop shooting me, please? You’re putting holes in my wall._

“I’ve never met you before in my life.”

The guy opens his mouth, then closes it again. He lets Bucky go, spreads his arms out wide at his sides. “How can I prove it to you?” he asks.

“What?”

“How can I prove to you that I am who I say I am? Because I am Steve, Bucky. It’s me. I – I don’t know how to explain how this happened, I – I couldn’t, even if I knew how. But I swear to you, it’s me.”

Bucky doesn’t want to entertain this asshole, doesn’t want to deal with this crap, not after the month and a half he’s had. But something in the guy’s face – god, he even looks like Steve – is pleading with Bucky to just give him a chance, so, “July 21st, that’s when we met?”

Whoever the guy is, he breathes a sigh of relief, just like Steve would, and Bucky almost wants to punch him for it. “Yeah, Buck, yeah.”

“Stop – stop calling me that. You don’t get to call me that.”

“Okay,” the guy says. “Okay. Just – tell me what I need to tell you.”

“What did you – what did Steve say to me, when I told him I loved him for the first time?”

To his credit, the guy doesn’t seem shocked to know that Bucky loved Steve. “He said –  _I_  said that I was sorry.”

“No, the first time. The first time I told Steve I loved him, he said something. He said he was sorry afterwards, but the very first time I told Steve I loved him, he got right up close to my face, and he said-”

“’I wish, more than anything, that you didn’t’.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, just sort of – stumbles back a step, staring at him. The longer he looks, the more he starts to recognise the facial features, but there’s just one problem.

“Steve was sick,” he says. “Steve died ‘cause he got sick. He was short, thin. I don’t – I don’t know if you’ve seen yourself, friend, but you – you ain’t that.”

“I – uh, I know, Buc- I know. Perks of coming back, I guess," he replies, and the smirk he gives is trademark.

Bucky stares at – at Steve, he guesses, for a full minute, and – Steve just stares back. As the seconds tick on, something in his expression begins to change, and he almost starts to smile.

A few more seconds pass, and he’s beaming.

“Come on, jerk, you know I’m telling the truth.”

Bucky waits for another few seconds, just trying to get a hold of himself. Then, “Stevie?”

Steve doesn’t flinch at the old nickname, just smiles wider, and then there are tears falling over both of their faces.

“Yeah, Buck,” he breathes. “I came home.”

**Author's Note:**

> i blame jo for this okay this is not my fault and if i'd posted the first draft you'd all be sobbing into your 2am cereal so you're welcome and also please don't hate me


End file.
